(Warning: more airport shit)

As a Catholic, I’ve been taught indirectly the only time to pray is if, and only if, you know something bad is about to happen. So, praying before a flight says, “there’s a chance I could be dead in a few hours and I want to be on God’s good side, just in case.”

I’m afraid of flying, so hearing someone chant beforehand doesn’t help my cause. It only serves as a reminder that momentarily, I could be taking the high dive Greg Louganis could only dream of.

My drive to the airport feels more like a final walk down death row. I eat my last meal, say my goodbyes, give the right people dirty looks. I convince myself my life is over. When I get to the airport, making a connection with someone as desperate as I am is just as important as avoiding a departure gate to Atlanta.

But, I never seem find a fellow death row inmate (maybe because I’m avoiding people going to Atlanta). Instead, I find a bunch of optimists that think it’s necessary to have their phone’s battery at full charge for when they make it alive to their destination.

Ha.

The only time I’ll find it necessary to charge my phone before a flight is if Verizon Wireless puts some towers in Heaven. And, the chances of that happening are zero. (To be clear, I think the phone calls from Heaven are definitely possible; it’s Verizon Wireless making it into Heaven, that is not.)

On my most recent trip to the airport, there was nowhere to sit but on the floor next to a charging station I clearly would not be needing.  There I was, looking out of place next to a bunch of optimists (Asians) juicing up their macs.

But, amongst the crowd, I noticed a fellow pessimist. You couldn’t miss him. He was the guy praying out loud and wearing some sort of religious get-up, which always makes my pre-flight ritual of slugging down a gin and tonic in a hooded sweatshirt look a bit shallow.

But, ultimately, he was the shallow one. Here’s why:

The outlet he was sitting next to wasn’t working. Despite his knowledge of this, he continued to let people plug into it. I watched him watch innocent victim after innocent victim plug in. I could see their expression change from “happy, my phone is charging” face to “oh shit, my phone hasn’t been charging” face.

Maybe he was praying it would start to work for them? I doubt it.

You guys have all seen it. You’re at the gym, there’s a guy running on a treadmill right next to another treadmill he knows full well isn’t working. Yet, he let’s someone walk up to the broken machine and press a million buttons until they realize on their own it isn’t working.

This is a form of stranger abuse. Why not just tell the person fumbling with the machine that it’s not working? Rather, we let them struggle with the thing until they look the way my father does when trying to fix something.

I was praying he’d tell the people about the outlet. J/k. I was giving him the stink eye while trying to telepathically communicate with him. I focused all my mind power to try to send him a message that says, “Tell the people the outlet isn’t working. Because, if you’re going to dress up and show the world what a good person you are, you better walk the walk.”

I wanted ask him to take his focus off his religious documents and reach out to man kind because I’m assuming, that’s what God would want. But, I didn’t want to be killed, so instead, I took it upon myself to be the good samaritan.  I moved myself closer to the bum outlet.

“Hey, that plug isn’t working,” I would say.

“Oh, thanks for the heads up, that is really nice of you,” a potential broken plug victim probably said.

One by one, I spread the message about the plug while the religious guy next to me spread his message of God. But, if there was a vote, I’m pretty sure mine would have been considered the “good word.”

I may not pray before I fly but I did what I had to do to get on God’s good side, just in case.